


Greasy Silver Spoon

by Smiledip (romashka)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romashka/pseuds/Smiledip
Summary: Working part-time at Greasy's Diner, Pacifica is coming to terms with her new life.





	Greasy Silver Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> Following what Hirsch said about how he "definitely imagined" Pacifica working alongside Lazy Susan at Greasy's after her family lost their mansion, this came to me at 1am.

Pacifica wasn't quite herself these days. Yes, it was losing her home, her _ancestral_ home, the whole basis of her identity. The house she lived in now was very nice, but there was nothing special about it. And it was the horrors she had seen, that the entire town had chosen to ignore. And naturally, it was the fact that she was now bussing tables at a truly disgusting excuse for a restaurant, which although she'd lived her whole life in Gravity Falls, she'd never so much as set foot in before. She would _never._

Yet here she was. Mopping somebody's spilt coffee off the floor because apparently that was a waitress's job too. She had been informed that she "cleaned like a rich kid", which meant ineffectually. And there was a grease stain on her apron that Susan had deliberately splashed onto it on her first day, proclaiming that she was 'one of the family now' and ruffling her hair with immediate over-familiarity. Or was it just normal affection?

Susan wasn't bad. They were friends, she supposed.

Unlike _some_ people, Pacifica did try to keep her hair nice. She knew she was really supposed to tie it up, but, come on. Fashion. She had to compensate for the dreadful uniform somehow.

Today, she came into work wearing her diamond earrings. She knew she could have sold them and probably saved herself a lot of work, but like many things she owned, she clung to them as a vestige of her old life. She knew, too, that it was ridiculous for a diner waitress to wear something like that. They were incongruous. They were to her uniform what she was to the diner.

A part of her was a constant stream of _This is below me. This is below me. These people are below me._ Another part was saying that no, of course they weren't below her, she just needed to stop being such a prissy bitch. Hadn't she been through this?

She was happier when they were both quieter.

Wearing nice things helped with that somehow. God, she'd been right - money really did make problems go away.

She could wear diamonds and work in a diner. She could be a Northwest and be a good person. Things weren't so clear-cut, and she could be herself, whoever that was.


End file.
